Something to ponder
Before we went out, I wanted a new bag because I felt like I didn’t have a suitable bag to wear casually. I didn’t really need another one but being my bag-obsessed self, getting a new one is like a must to me. When we arrived, I got into one of the stores there and started choosing among all of the bags that were displayed. I saw the one that I liked and my dad went “ok take one” and that’s it. I didn’t even look at the price tag and made my way to the cashier.
We were in another store after iftar and we didn’t have anything particular in mind. Dad was buying his millionth pair of shoes and he went “kakak choose what you like” because my brother bought a pair of shoes earlier today so he felt the need to buy me something equal to what he bought for my brother. I didn’t even need another pair of shoes (this time, it’s a pair of sneakers from Lacoste) but I chose one anyway. Dad never says no to my requests, not even once. There isn’t a thing that I want that my dad refuses to it. Not even once. He always buys us (my siblings and I) everything that we want.
Once, my brother was sulking because dad bought me a MacBook Air, he didn’t talk to us for two days so my dad bought him a new phone just because he couldn’t stand seeing his only son sulks. Once, my brother was joking saying that he wanted a TV in his room and at the end of the week, he bought an LED flat screen for him. For my sister, she was 8 when she got her first computer and 11 when she got her first Coach bag. She buys bags like they were 5 bucks, buy 1 get 1 free.
You see, things are handed to us on a silver platter. I didn’t deserve a new bag, heck, I just bought a Furla, I didn’t deserve a new pair of shoes, heck, I have a few pairs that haven’t been used yet. To rich kids, all these things are a norm for them but for a normal kid like me, getting stuff that you don’t really need is a nikmah. I feel bad. I seriously do. I imagine my brothers and sisters in Gaza and all over the world, not having enough food and water to sustain their life, not having enough money to buy a new pair of shoes or bags or clothes for Eid, and then there’s me, buying stuff that I don’t need, having a wardrobe full of clothes that some of them I have only worn once.
I am lucky. Very, very lucky. Sometimes I feel like I am not grateful enough and don’t say alhamdulillah enough because I have privileges that those kids in countries at war fail at having. I feel really, really bad. I live in a peaceful country, enough food and water, I have a comfortable home I can sleep at, and I have everything that I want. Does that make me a bad person for having more than those kids?
